a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart
Author: David Koblentz
Inspiration is a fickle muse. Sometimes empty, sometimes overwhelming. These words I write are my own but they seem driven by something else (perhaps?).
a colony prescribed by the hand of time ordered into the womb of god delivered and so you are
notes… sometimes things pop in my head, I could tell you I am not religious because I am not, but does that mean I do not believe in something higher… how can we just be dropped here right now on this little marble in the middle of supreme vastness ? sure, it could all be random, but I would rather think a hand is moving things behind the scenes, I’m probably wrong, so what… in the end it does not matter, so I choose to believe my life has meaning…
There is something romantic about an approaching summer-esque storm, ok, maybe romantic is not the right word, maybe a marriage, a marriage of awe, anticipation and relief, relief in breaking the yoke of humidity descended down upon my neck, a little yard work after work has me dripping condensation down the sides like a cold bottle of water sitting in a hot car, even at this late hour – near sunset, I think, but I can not know from the cloud cover pulled over my sight eyes, a photo flash of distant lightning, a gentle rumble-roll dash of far off thunder, and I wait, will this be a furious tempest pitching a fit or a methodic super-soaker waterfall event, or maybe the red-headed unpredictable step child of both, who knows, as many of these as I have seen this world has seen far more, but she is not taking questions from the press pool at the moment, the battle seems on between good and evil, darkness and light, day and night, cats and dogs, all this painted with portions of perfection upon the sky, or is this just simply symbiosis in plain disguise, the give and take of the land, for I can almost hear the mutters of exhaustion from the plants holding steady tall (but suppressing inner rumors of the will to wilt under the weight of a soaked heavy-hot blanket of a ninety degree day), or maybe that is me projecting, cells vibrating, pacing in circles inside my skin, just as anxious to feel nature’s faucet turned on to unleash a sweet-cool torrent pour, how utterly amazing the whole process really is, sometimes travelling on this bullet train we don’t stop at the familiar stops anymore to admire the old sights, take the time to take a natural inventory of what we know and the startling nature of well, everything, everything we are granted is often taken for granted, all the dressing: electricity, carpeting, TV, internet, down to our very breath, a ladder rungs so high we climb until the ground becomes a tale we were once told, the sky lurks darker, moves closer, a slight cool breeze walks over, introduces itself and has a seat next to me, I guess to also enjoy the festivities and fireworks just as me, and I might thought to have this moment alone, not so, there is so much around, we just do not speak the same tongue (but perhaps share the same thoughts and experience in moments like this), from mole to mammal to avian residents, we will all feel the initial droplets bombarding fall, and huddle in our homes, wherever they are until all is done, some masters of the planet we are, the breeze is a bit restless now as his friends from out of town are arriving, a constant shuffle now of leaves tremble-shaking, and like a slow-motion scripted movie scene thhttps://youtu.be/liwZrALrwBMat first drop smacks me dead center in my brow (could be because I was looking straight up), the ground flexes and sighs as the pores of the landscape gape open to accept the gilded prize, and as the pace quickens, the wind thickens, too many drops to get an accurate count now, this is refreshing though… so I linger, for a few seconds, and now I am fetching to duck inside, after all, I don’t want to get soaked…
notes… for those in the know (thanks), for those not, this is total stream of consciousness from my, um, porch silly ! real life, real prose, no pose… just me, and if you get me… awesome, if not, well.. somehow I will get over it and wish you well anyway…
so then, I am of so many leaves when my winter makes the call even me, a summer’s child, after all I am so, just a grain of sand lost in great swaths moved by airs and seas; I am just a lost fingerprint- in the generations of humanity a molecule of a mind once mine destined to rise again but never to this form myself, this again so then, will I travel the universe as a particle burst out when our sun’s end sets to coalesce, perhaps to exist, perhaps once again so then, I wish to become I wish to become then – a dream.
notes… I think often, and I admit I have a semi panic attack, about, you know… the end… I try to rationalize it as we all do, and all those before have, and all after will… it is a hard one to fathom, I can convince you that in some physical way we all are perpetual, but as an individual is my life some 100 year span in the countless billions a lost ship in the vastness of an ocean we can not even comprehend… ? I have hope, that this vastness provides a vessel for my existence. I can argue that I did exist.. I am… but what happens when this existence ends for me, am I gone … forever ? I did / do exist but the prospect of not having consciousness is frightening at times… the pure lack of control over, well, anything… all I can do is hope and pray there is something out there that created me and you for a purpose… what that is? I can not say for sure, I don’t know, I don’t have the answers… and I struggle with it…. but also the idea that no matter what I do the inevitable is the inevitable.. that is impossible to square at times…. but I try, I try.
I suppose I could tell you of the clouds, perfectly farmed rows of smoke pillows, so arranged you would swear they were arranged, and not randomness hiding in plain sight symmetric lines, one large one quite looks like a dirigible, passenger car and all, I pause to listen to the birds, only shadow figures now, I only know them by their words, this is slowly becoming my favorite time of night, past the hoopla, sans the fanfare, the sun has long set sail for tomorrow, or at least is quite out of this view, like a concert where the band has exited stage left, and here I am soaking in the afterglow, as if all the good feelings have mellowed and settled in, ready to rest to slumber with a day behind them, a couple walks across the street, I have seen them before, they live not too far, I see them almost every day, but yet, they might as well be the person next to me in my car, in random morning traffic, ‘was this always like this?’ I think to myself or is the past the ever gilded pony of times passed glory, like a monument marking a time but not actual circumstance of moment, a couple walking, distinct because their little one likes to run up and down the street with heavy feet for such a small frame, as if he is hitting puddles in the sidewalk concrete, all these stories walking up and down and around, sometimes colliding and making new chapters, sometimes never even seeing the cover properly, or even the insert to see the summary to see if there is interest, but I shouldn’t dwell, I feel myself melting into the landscape, human sounds and all, a train in the distance is chugging along, train, seems like such an ancient word, almost noble, my mind conjures the smoke and steam breathing machines from turns of past, not a sad lumbering parade of abused cargo containers, such that it is, but in some strange wonderful way, hypnotic, a dim earthly hum with thumps, primitive ambient grooves, there is a palpable feel to the sound, like a mechanical heart, cathartic, in the repetition, I wonder if any passer bys wonder about this guy, sitting there (here), contemplating them, or am I just another piece of the landscape, unmoving, a citizen of the background, maybe, maybe too often.
notes… this is my continuing series, just sitting outside and riffing, whatever comes to mind, hopefully coherent… hopefully… I was in a calm, after transplanting some new bamboo plants, I am up to 8 varieties now, is that weird ? beats collecting stamps in my mind and there is something calming about gardening, at least for me, maybe it is getting my hands dirty, literally feeling the earth, seeing my brood grow in fits and spurts, they all survived the winter… barely, maybe I will start a bamboo blog, and have even less views, lol or with my luck that will be the new niche of the new century… ah, maybe I will just keep being me, seems ok for now…
’til death do us part’ and so has passed and I wonder for my mother the separation, from my father a fixture as two were one for decades a lifetime shared but now, separated and now, one.
(this would be a stream of consciousness thought piece)
fear and sameness
I have admitted to, in the past, being very much a creature of habit, gladly trading in the tunic of uncertain discovery for the comforting blanket of normality, is this laziness? or just my contention in content that I like the similar, the familiar, I like to go on vacation to a known quantity, almost like a second home where I know the ins and outs, no surprises, I think perhaps some, I think perhaps not, sure, I should now how I am wired by this bend of my life, but have I just built adequate defenses fueled by the prescient architectural knowledge of my subconscious, am I the tide turtle that can only return to that one beach, in the cover of night, to procreate, and if said beach is gone so is my whole existence, where I would rather drown than find some other dawn? but it would be nice to compare evolutionary impulse to the fabled foibles of mankind I guess, a noble gesture that I am somehow not in charge of this whole neat mess, so, yes I tend to vacation in the same spots over and over if you have followed my little life story, even those places were new once but I researched them to the point of being paralyzed, these are my machinations, my demons, the little silent suckers that seem to drive me into directions from behind the scenes, but if the end result makes me happy… why proceed? microcosm, flash tonight, I had placed my keys somewhere other than I might, if ever would, I am a particular beast in that regard, things go places, the same places, so in a bind or a moment’s itch I don’t have to think as to where to grab and go, but no, not tonight, something is amiss, I missed where I placed my keys, and was ready to bolt out the door to grab whatever sushi bowl might be left @ the local store, my mind raced, my heart paced – upwards, I was home all day, where can they be, I searched the should be places multiple times, as if the key elves, in their divine wisdom, would magically deliver my keys, no, but I re-checked anyway, what the heck did I do different today? I visited all the places I had been in the house, not exactly too many locales, besides today my central AC was out, and the temp hit 90 – and I was working so I had to be @ my laptop checking out the call board, first world problems, I know… then I finally recalled, after almost getting my dizzy self into a tizzy, I shot some video about what I pack for fossil digging, being a nut for detail I even included my keys and wallet, damn authenticity… so, wound up with a salad instead of sushi, the full moon was out before the sun crossed the down, all so perfect looking, sitting out on my deck, low sweat from walking through the hot house, nipping at my sorbet, the neighbor’s new fence half made, playing badminton I think, life is not so bad, but perhaps I lean on my shelter, not just physical ones, fear of losing a precious day off or vacation time to a lousy cause or draw, I think my inclinations have hampered my destinations, emotionally and physically, because I am afraid of bad outcomes, even if the fall is not such a bad one, falling back into the arms of what I know, a quantifiable conclusion that I know satisfies my urges and concreted infusions, I have forgotten a simple thing, perhaps one of the most simple things… so I forced to ask myself ‘what have you really got to lose?’
if joy could have form, materialize have a lover, a consort, a concubine and this union could cover all sight this is the emotion painted on the sky, this night
nary a worry bare’ing on the cloud countenance fair recompense for seasons spent – in blankets distant time now in slumber in the gloaming a solid azure temple looms testament to that coming soon if joy had a soul and a mate written ‘cross this beaming sky even up on the skin of suns doth sing, doth rejoice hymns of the life of promise for even death’s dark heart, is warm’d I would not foretell a gospel of such emancipation- the atmosphere, she is in courtship with every breath drawn in on the air’e – rides sensations eyes that have had this common pause this common cause down unto a leaf the beauty say keep from within my hand into the very ground reflecting back, our wonders spin-spinning faster the sunlight slides out across the landscape flat shadows stretch long they affirm my existence for now, at least – for now.
I wish the whimsical I pray, I dance on the drum skins of the old gods lying forgotten in the thunderlands I shout out, in trance to transform this grassy prairie into the bounty of lush forestlands may brooks break the backs of the deep plates and carve-cut out the roadways for life to venture out upon quench the sponge until overflow from bird to bee, proliferation all manner of life, let this be
notes… one of those that snuck into my skull, I found myself in ancient america at the foot of the grasslands, and wondered what it would have looked like if forest had extended outward coast to coast.. so this is that work…
Shades of My Garden 